Before we start, this is my first fanfiction ever. Ever. I do not own anything except the plot and some OC's that will appear in this story, but do not fear because I will not go OC overboard. There is mostly just one OC, and he is essential to the plot. But it does evolve around the turtles about 98% at the least. Just warning you cause some people dislike OC's. Anyway...enjoy.
A dark, thick fog crawled along the dead, leaf-covered ground of a dark autumn's night. It's long, thick fingers brushing against stones, words etched across their dulled surfaces. The moon was full this cold night. It shone as much of limited light as it could down upon the yard of stones and bones. The calls of ravens echoed. Their voices blending together to form a chilling tune that froze the hearts of those who rarely passed. Once or twice, vehicles passed by and quickly ran by the deserted place, their lights illuminating a single sign that covered the old, creaky gate that gave entrance.
Dolor of silenti etc
For many centuries, the cemetery has been known to have been abandoned, besides the dead that reside under its stiff soil. No one came to visit and those who walk by never stay within arm's length of the black, metal fence guarding its decaying treasures. But tonight was the night for the death grounds to be finally touched with a presence. A human presence.
He was an unusual man. His eyes were hidden under the shadows of his brown cloak's hood. His mouth set with a mad grin as he gently eased the gate open. Finding success with his goal so far, he trudged on to the center of the grounds. Feeling a surge of excitement, the man dropped to his knees and pulled open his tattered duffel bag. Inside, objects needed for the ritual sat, waiting to be used for their purpose that he had brought them for.
He brought out five sticks, two of them were the incense of saffron and the other three were tall, black candles. He formed an arc, the three candles in the middle and the incense sticks on both sides. Delicately, he placed down a piece of paper with an intriguing symbol. A sigil. He lit the sticks, watching as the paper reflected the raging colors from the fiery lights.
And he waited.
And waited.
He waited till the sound of midnight struck, echoing from the distant distance. He waited, and now it was time.
Eyes closed, head bowed, hands resting calmly on knees. He began the chant.
"Lord Satan, by your grace, grant me, I pray thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain by thy help, O Mighty Satan, the one True God who livest and reignest forever and ever. I entreat thee to inspire Beelzebub to manifest before me that he may give me true and faithful answers, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is proper to his suffice. This I respectfully and humbly ask in Your Name, Lord Satan, may you deem me worthy, Father."
He repeated the chant, over and over and over. The winds howled as they rushed past his very being. The candles flickered as a heavy cloud of smoke was lifted up into the roaring air. His words were lost amongst the chaos that filled the cemetery, causing the dead themselves to become restless within their caskets.
Then, all was stilled.
And hell was let loose.